The Fear of Falling Apart
by JerichosRiot
Summary: He no longer harbored a fear of falling apart for he had long since come undone... After having given up on a secret friendship the year before, a late night run in leads to Draco revealing to Hermione that Harry's suspicions aren't all completely unfounded. Sixth Year


"Malfoy, where are you going?" Hermione demanded as the blonde slid past her. She huffed indignantly as she was shoved aside. Her lips turned downward into a scowl and she stalked after him. The tension in his clenched fists was palpable, his shoulders hunched and taut. That did not deter Hermione. Draco's dark moods were so frequent as of late that she was no longer afraid of them. "Don't ignore me, you git! It's nearly midnight. What are you doing?"

Hermione's breath caught in her throat as Draco unexpectedly whirled to face her. She crashed into his chest. Craning her neck to look up at his face, Hermione sighed. The dark bruises under his silver eyes were even more pronounced and there was a wild restlessness in them. She felt the rapid rise and fall of his chest against hers. "Malfoy," she murmured in a soft tone. His eyes fell shut at the sound of his surname. "Let me go, Granger. I need some air. I need to _fly,_" he nearly pleaded.

"Fly? After midnight? How will you even get out of the castle?" Hermione's disbelief was blatant. Not one for heights, she couldn't imagine risking leaving the castle for something like it. Draco pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb as he took a deep breath. Dropping his hand back to his side, he shot her a dark look. "You, of all people, would know a few ways, I would imagine."

His dig hurt. Hermione's cheeks flushed crimson in the damp dark of the hallway. She was all too aware of what he was referring to. The night in fifth year that sent his father to jail and lost him the unexpected friend he never would have guessed to hate to lose. She certainly hadn't had trouble sneaking out of the castle then. She shuddered at the memory. While she was wrapped in her thoughts, she failed to notice the boy in front of her had resumed his retreat into the darkness. Blinking away her confusion, she scrambled after him.

After a hurried pace through the lower levels of the castle, Hermione found herself outside. The quiet night greeted her with a chilly blast of near winter air. She was momentarily distracted by the elegant beauty of the starry canvas of the indigo sky. That was until the brunette witch caught sight of a familiar slim figure by the lake. Without wasting another moment, Hermione raced towards the boy with the broom.

She caught his arm just before he could shoot off into the night. Draco scowled, his body itching for the rush of adrenaline that accompanied flying. He needed something to distract him from the oppressive pessimistic thoughts that had plagued him lately. He glared down at Hermione, his broom levitating mere feet off the ground. He just wanted this _one_ thing, and yet his favorite and most hated witch was stopping him. "Granger, please. Don't make me beg."

She scoffed at his words. "As if a Malfoy would beg." He almost grinned at her retort. Almost. "I don't feel right about letting you fly off like this," she admitted reluctantly. Draco softened at her words, yet dread seeped into his thoughts as well. He should have stayed away. Like she demanded him to at the end of the previous year. He was on a mission for the man who wanted all people like her dead. Witty, infuriating, intelligent, insufferable, gorgeous. Dead.

Draco's heart had been falling to pieces since she told him to leave her alone, and each sight of her shattered it again and again. Would one lapse really do that much more damage? He no longer harbored a fear of falling apart for he had long since come undone.

"Then come with me."

Hermione balked. "You can't be serious. You know how I feel about flying."

He did. He had heard _all_ about it, in fact. Yet he had put up with her complaints once he'd noticed her watchful eyes at his Quidditch matches. She may not have liked flying herself, but she had more than enjoyed watching the Slytherin seeker dart about in the sky. He was still unsure if inviting her was wise. Something told him he might not recover after another one of her departures from his life, but he felt reckless that night. To hell with it all. As if she would actually get on a broom.

"Scared, Granger?" Draco taunted, the typical malice in his voice absent like it had been with her for years. "I would've thought a Gryffindor such as yourself would have the courage to-"

"Shut it, Malfoy. Help me up," Hermione interrupted sharply. She hid her smirk as she caught the utter surprise in his otherwise stoic face. He quickly wiped it off and held out a hand. She took it and he couldn't help but notice the tremor in it. He lowered the broom, and before she could protest, he snatched her up and placed Hermione in front of him. Shock was evident in her chocolate eyes as she was acutely aware of her new position. In Malfoy's lap.

"Why am I sitting in your lap, Malfoy?" she accused darkly, a quiver in her voice betraying her stern tone. Her heart was hammering in her chest at the close proximity to the blonde. She refused to think about the fact that she was more or less straddling her supposed nemesis on his ludicrously expensive broom. "I was under the impression that you insisted on following me so that we could talk. If you're facing the other way, how will I hear you?" Draco explained patiently. Admittedly, his logic wasn't as innocent as he tried to make it. Determined to have it be the last time he gave into her, he wanted to see her, truly see her, one last time. He wanted to enjoy her soft features, the eyes that used to light up when they met his, the pink lips that had brushed against his cheek so warmly, so cautiously. He wanted to soak her in properly for a final time. Before she truly began to hate him. It would no longer be the sins of his father that she hated him for. It would be his own unforgivable ones.

"Fine," Hermione sighed. Her breath hitched nervously as the broom rose slowly above the ground. Every cell in Draco's body purred with satisfaction as her delicate arms threw themselves around his neck. "Please don't kill us," Hermione whispered, her fear breaking through her faked confidence. Draco's body vibrated against hers as he let out a throaty chuckle. She scooted closer as his arms wrapped around her to grab the broom's handle. "I won't, I promise," Draco swore, reeling in the fact that he had actually gotten her on a broom. It was unheard of.

Hermione clung to Draco and clamped her eyes shut resolutely. After a few moments of hovering, she risked a peek at the Slytherin manning the broom. "We aren't moving," she observed curiously. He smirked, but it only invoked a smile from her rather than diminishing it as it used to. "Well, I'm not about to take off at top speed, am I? I want you to adjust before we go anywhere. I don't want to be blamed for giving you a heart attack." Draco played it off, but Hermione knew the kindness he stuffed deep down inside was being brought to light.

After a moment, Hermione nodded. "I-it's okay. You can go or whatever it is you do with brooms." She bit back a squeal as Draco dipped the broom and sped forward. Despite being scared witless, Hermione was still able to relish the feel of Draco in her arms. She hated to admit it, but...she had missed him. More than words could describe. His wit was ruthless and his emotions difficult to coax out. But he, despite refusing to admit it, could have a kind heart when he wanted to. He was thoughtful and a gentleman when the situation called for it. He carried himself with a defined grace and pride, and he practically oozed confidence. That was until this year. But even in the new, scarily worn, thin, and frantic Draco, Hermione found solace. And she was all too aware that she should not.

Cheek pressed against his flushed one, Hermione couldn't help but murmur a small, "I've missed you."

Her words shattered him. "You shouldn't," he choked out. The air whipping through his hair didn't make him feel alive like it should. It made him feel cold.

"I know."

"But I've missed you, too."

"I know."

Draco skillfully pulled his broom to a hovering halt. He pulled back from Hermione's iron grasp but only enough to look at her. The pale moonlight reflected in her ever expressive eyes. The ones he knew could see right through him most days. He let out a sigh. "This is dangerous."

The corners of her mouth twitched downwards and she cast her eyes away from his piercing gaze. "You're right. We're balancing on an overly large enchanted stick hundreds of feet above the ground."

"Granger," he tried to scold. She should be taking him seriously. She nodded solemnly. "I know, I know. But...we were such good friends."

Draco hated how small her voice was. "And I enjoyed it. But the time for it is over. As it should be. You said it yourself." He frowned as he remembered that horrible day. He had no knowledge of his father's actions in the Department of Mysteries, and her distraught demand for Draco to stay out of her life had cut the boy deeply. But the events off the summer made him realize that it had been a good thing.

"I did. But...that was because of what your father did. Not you. But I lashed out right after it happened. I know what I said was...hurtful," Hermione admitted.

"Hurtful, yes. But nonetheless true. No, no, let me finish," he urged as she tried to interrupt him. "You may have been talking about my father then, but everything you said applies to me, as well."

"But you're not evil, I know it," she argued adamantly. She didn't witness Draco's lips twist into a disgusted scowl. "Aren't I, though? Granger, you're too trusting for your own good."

Hermione took a deep breath to steady her shaky voice. She realized that demanding the kind of answers she wanted from him now were not ones she should ask as he had her suspended hundreds of feet from the ground, but she had to know. "Is that why you've been so...not you, this year? You think you're evil?"

Draco stiffened in her loosely wrapped arms. She raised her gaze only to have his now avoid hers. He chewed his bottom lip, a habit she had noticed he resorted to when worried or stressed. She boldly raised a hand to his face, smoothing his lip out with a brush of her thumb. She caught his sharp intake of breath at her unexpected touch. He closed his eyes and found himself leaning into her hand. In a weak voice, Draco breathed, "I _am_ evil."

"No, you're not. Don't say that," Hermione admonished him. His silver eyes flew open and she started a bit. They flashed a charcoal grey and the lips under her tentative thumb spread into a thin line. "You have no idea, Granger. You're so wrong. You think you know everything, but you're bloody blind when it comes to me," Draco snapped coldly, his voice harsh and unforgiving. His reaction was expected, and she almost didn't ask the next question. It slipped off her tongue before she could reel it back in.

"Are you a Death Eater?"

Blunt and brutal. It seemed Hermione had taken a more Draco like approach to the question.

His lack of response to her inquiry made Hermione nervous. Wordlessly, but willing his eyes to speak the volumes of words he could not begin to express, Draco removed his hands from his broom and cradled Hermione's face in them. She watched as his cold eyes melted into brimming pools of crystal. She could smell the mint of his breath, the warmth of it tickling her chin. "Draco?" she whispered.

The sound of his name rolling off her tongue after all this time broke something in the boy who thought himself irreparably damaged already. "Hermione," he began, his voice thick with the emotion he so often tried to suppress, "Before you hate me, before you can never forgive me for what I've become...would you let me do something I've been dying to try for the last three years?"

Hermione paid the tears rolling down her cheeks no attention as she gazed at the boy who had so abruptly changed her life. She had scarcely nodded her consent before his lips met hers.

His hands tangled themselves in her hair the moment their lips touched. Fire ignited in his veins at the contact he had so desperately longed for all that time. She tasted salty, her tears mingling into their soft, hesitant kiss. Hermione's fingers had knotted themselves into the hair at the base of Draco's neck, and she pressed herself tighter to him as he grew more demanding. The innocent kiss he had intended had been blown out of the water. The desire that was sparked in the couple had risen from the depths of their inner most feelings, instantly recognizing the one chance it was being given to fight for its right to survive the night.

Draco savored it. He knew the moment it was over the only good thing in his life would hate him forever. Her disgust would be the last push he needed to fully believe that he was as evil as her bumbling idiots for friends said he was. It was goodbye.

To Hermione, it was a plea for him to stay. Dread clashed violently with the excitement in her veins. The desperate manner of the kiss tasted like a farewell and Hermione understood that as an affirmative to her question. Her heart, much like Draco's had months ago, was coming undone.

"Hermione," Draco gasped as his lips trailed from her mouth to the corner of her jaw. Though her body was humming from his touch, she couldn't help but eye his left arm. His calloused hand cradling her cheek, his loose sleeve was so tempting. She was momentarily distracted by the hungry open mouthed kisses Draco was placing on her exposed neck. One hand still knitted in his silky blonde hair, Hermione raised the other to the hand on her cheek. There was a pause in Draco's ministrations on her neck as he stiffened at the contact. He slowly picked up again, even as she cautiously slid her fingers down his wrist, toying with the cuff of his sleeve. Hermione knew that he was fully aware of what she was about to do.

Shivering from the delicious heat of his kisses in the bitter cold of the night air, Hermione steeled herself for what she feared she was about to find. She couldn't hold back the sob that ripped through her as shoving back his sleeve revealed her worst nightmare. There, marring his porcelain white skin, was the Dark Mark. The sight of the skull was horrifying and the snake emerging from its mouth taunted her.

"_Oh, Draco_," she murmured mournfully, vision blurred by the tears now cascading down her cheeks.

The kisses had come to a stop, but Draco lips remained pressed against the crook of her neck. He was terrified to move. To face her hatred. The hatred he had shown her for years. He never wanted to be on the receiving end of such a deep loathing. He was the unworthy one now and he didn't want to face it just yet.

But then. A chaste kiss was placed on his wrist. Draco's head flew up in surprise, momentarily forgetting his reluctance to meet Hermione's gaze. She was, as he had expected, quite tearful, but he watched in amazement as she pressed another small kiss to the inside of his wrist. It was the same arm that now bore the ugly brand so feared in the wizarding world.

Fearful of her reaction, he raised his other hand to her face and wiped away her tears. This was not a reaction he had been prepared for. He was so shocked when she threw her arms around him that he forgot to return the gesture for a full minute. Then, he snaked his arms around her waist and held her as she cried.

"I'm so, so sorry, Hermione. Believe me, I never wanted this. Not after getting to know you," Draco apologized, hating himself in that moment more than he had ever hated the girl sobbing in his arms. "Hermione, I don't know what to do."

She wrenched herself out of his arms before remembering where she was. He caught her effortlessly. She rubbed her watery eyes furiously. The heavy silence that settled around them was crushing.

"Why? Why you? Why did you take it?" she demanded, her usually peaceful eyes wracked with pain. Draco took a moment to collect himself. She waited patiently. "He's punishing my father. For being such a failure. I'm supposed to prove my family's worth now," he rushed out, hating the words. He couldn't bring himself to say why he took it. It hurt too much. He rubbed at his chest, the emotional pain in his heart seemed to become physical. Hermione noticed his sudden distress, his hyperventilating breaths. Frowning in concern, she placed her cold hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look directly at her. "Just breathe. You can tell me, Draco. Please."

Draco stammered out something so quickly that Hermione missed it. He ached to smooth out the crease between her eyebrows when she furrowed them in confusion. He willed himself to say the words again, but it was difficult.

"He's going to kill me."

"W-what?" Hermione sputtered, gasping in horror. He couldn't stand the fear in her eyes. "He's given me an impossible task. If I don't accomplish it he's going to kill me. And most likely my mother. And I know I'm not going to succeed because I have no intention to. I don't want to go through with it. I can't go through with it."

"I-I spent the whole summer hating you," Hermione cried, "But I never wanted to lose you for real. Not in this way."

"It was bound to happen, anyway. I'm a Malfoy. I was born for this," he spat in disgust. "You should hate me, now, Hermione."

"I don't hate you, Draco." She shook her head firmly. "I could never hate you."

Draco groaned in frustration. "But you should! Hermione, I'm on the 'dark side' or whatever you bloody Gryffindors call it! I am at the will of a man who wants to eradicate the earth of people like you. If I really believed in this mark, I would want you dead!" His voice was dangerously close to breaking.

"That's exactly why I can't hate you, Draco. Did you just hear yourself? You don't believe in it. You, as much as it disturbs me, have resigned yourself to being k-killed because you don't want to do what he's asked of you!"

"That's because I am a bloody coward, Granger!" Draco shouted, exasperated. He blinked in shock when she slapped him with one of the hands she still had on his cheeks. His eyes returned to her, bewildered. "Draco Malfoy, you are not a coward. I don't want to hear anything like that again. Just accept the fact that I don't, in fact, despise you now. Am I scared for you? Yes. Afraid of you? No."

He eyed her skeptically before his angular features once again softened. She mumbled a question so quietly that he had to ask her to repeat it. She blushed but maintained eye contact. "Did-did it hurt? Getting the mark?"

Draco grimaced. "I'd rather die than get it again."

She seemed to mull that over, her sympathy for him entirely unexpected by him.

"Draco?"

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Are you scared?"

She held him close as the sobbing boy collapsed into her arms.

"We'll find a way through this, Draco. I promise, we will," Hermione swore to him.

He wanted so desperately to believe her.

* * *

_**So, this was originally supposed to be part of a longer story, but then I realized how crazy I was to think I had time for a proper story. I think it stands well enough on its own, though, don't you think?**_


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